Indian chieftain. [volume] (Vinita, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1882-1902, 1887-04-21

that he should IKE her. for in truth
she was something worry like sunshine.
When she came back five minutes aft
erwards from showing John Earring ID
the guest chamber, Celeste was NOT
visible, and with smile she went
lightly about the rooms looking foI
her. Presently she heard low ripple
Of laughter In the little conservatory
and sweeps with quick graceful mo
tion TO her.
20, you little minxr' she Cried,
drawing her out from among the Aow.
crs and gazing smilingly Into her face,
'you are very deep indeedl Isn't this
tho Western orphan boy you told me
Of after You had been TO Openstone q
long time agop Ali aml begin 10 sec
why the other seekers have always.
sglsll and great, been swcetly shaken
Of Ahi ahr' and she gave the pink
chctk next TO her a little pinch with
her finger tips and laughed.
"DoH't you like himP" asked the
girl. giving up her laughing pout for q
quick, eager look into the CHEEKY face.
For answer the other sobcred as
she saw the look in the clear, appeal
ing eyes, aud with n mist rising into
her own, drew the slender girl close
against her and held her there with tho
silken head Nesting against her neck.
Then she kissed her tendcrly,. and
with her arm about her they went out,
the younger with her eyes upon the
carpet. and the elder looking out Go
fore her with q tear slipping down
either check.
John Earring found the dinner holr
almost pleasant beyond words. save
that Celeste seemed n little shy. lie had
never known much that was lovely in
domestic life, and now, after his years
Of the little room under the roof OF
Bowers Block. and the rather mem
agcrie-like methods about the pub
lie board of tho Opcnston Ho-
tel, the chaste and tranquil
atmosphere that cnveloped Mrs. Bray
tons snowy table pervadcd him with
very grateful sense. He felt the
spirit of his surroundings onter and
! sooth him like n sweet perfume, and
talked on in his fine, quiet way through
what seemed to him the first real hour
of happiness he had ever known.
Celeste was ready with smile and listen
ing ear, but not with many words,
while the young man and Mrs. Bray
ton got on very fast and smoothly to-
gethcr. Something In the air made
him tell them of the beautiful things
he had seen. with such language a
only poetic insight creates, and with
such relish as comes alone of an un-
sated heart. Then. helped on by tho
elder lady. he unconsuiously unfoldtd
/ his nifty f.r tho aud rnNnhRtI-
ness he had seen, and Celeste through
her luminous eyes seemed to come
very near TO him.
After that, the lucent June days he
gan TO stretch away swiftly, with tho
first sense of soft delight increasing in
the young mans blood until he fcl!
| life, with its fair surroundings and daily
privilege Of looking upon Celeste 5 face,
a very delicious thing. Now and then
his natural inclination to be at work
wrcnched at him, and he said to him
self that he had come to be only an
idler, n sort of pleasure-enfcoblcd shirk-
eI in the game Of life, yet he had had
so little OF gladncss he could ret take
his lips away from the bright bowl
when at last he held 1t in his handS.
lie said 10 himself he should be going.
but the soft law that held him and that
he did not recognize, was too strong
for him. Then he had no kin or cstab-
lished interests to take him away. why
should he not lOitcr littlcP
Then. too, the pure. mothcrly
regard of Mrs. Brayton. thing
denied him in his previous life, was
very comforting. In few DAYS she
| huI tia I.,,x II H.. t., 1.
before he had come Of age; Of her
daughter, a young wife in Cleveland;
OF her own husband, once merchant
Of the city. who died three summers be-
fore, leaving her an income ample for
her needs aud something over with
which 10 ease her heart Of its charit-
able promptings Then she told him
Of Celeste's life. an absorbing theme to
him and strange and sweet in its rev.
clations. How Celcste's father had
been a Colonel in the war, and lost his
! life Il ding n charge on the field of
| Antietam; then how the won
| derlul wife and mother took
her child and entered the service as n
soldiers nurse; Of the brave, helpful
| life they led, Of the mothers heroic
dcols, Of tho child's carrying water to
| the Uounded in the Wilderness, Of her
wount, in the limb with musket ball
which eft her limping through life,
Of the mothers life and death as a
newspaper correspondent at Washing
ton when the war was over. and Ce.
lcstc's coming TO Cincinnati TO share
/ her home.
The narrative touched the soft-heart-
ed, brayery-l9yins John Earring IA
with invisible Gre. II seemed to him
he could feel Celeste's wound, and sec
the blue-eycd. blr1-likc child with cups
OF water in her hands giving drink
to the dying upon the field Of carnage.
II thrilled him; where had he been in
that heroic hOu-? Working out bis
supposed debt Of gratitude in Joel
Whitney's store! Though it was not,
yet his own honest action seemed triv-
ial 10 him. Prompted by loving pity,
OF what bravery had she not been ca
pablo! All, the noble daughter OF the
dead soldicri This, arch, shy, gentle,
| slender, silyer-throatc1 Celeste! Was
It possible such strength and sclness
fire lay back OF all her chaste and soft
| docilityg Surely he was only boy. he
thought, aud did not yet know much
OF women.
Every morning he walked with heI
down the hillside through the sweet
June air, and together they boarded =
car, and, riding further into the town.
got down at the door Of the School OF
Music where she taught. These little
trips were very much TO him, he found,
for thea she was in his care. and while
ever silent as TO the slight lameness
and It's hallOwed cause. the touch was
infinitely tender with which he aided
her. Then she was less shy. he thought
as in truth she was, being carried away
by his presence and the rosy weather
from her instructive attempt TO hide
the beautiful flame that burned within
| her. SOmetimes be would retnrn and